Wholock Ficlets
by Simpa007
Summary: Yep, imaginative title, i know, but it's pretty much exactly what it says. A bunch of random little fics that just pop into my head every now and then. Enjoy.
1. A Little Chat

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

A Little Chat

CHARACTERS: Amy Pond and Jim Moriarty

_It was early morning when Amy emerged from her and Rory's room. Her husband still slumbered as she made her way down one of the many corridors in the vast ship, still in her dressing gown. What she really needed was a nice cup of tea._

_A loud wolf whistle echoed from behind her and she spun on her heels._

_Her brow furrowed for a man, whom she had never seen before, stood a few metres behind her. She paused, disordered, for a couple of seconds. The man laughed lightly._

"_Confused, dear?"_

_Amy stood a little taller._

"_Who are you? What are you doing here?"_

"_Jim Moriarty." He smirked before waggling his fingers in the air, "And as for what I'm doing here, there's no need to panic-"_

"_I'm not scared." The red-head interrupted._

_Moriarty smiled, "But we both know that's not quite true."_

_The two fell into a silence as Moriarty assessed her, and she him._

"_What are you doing here?" She repeated slowly._

"_A nice little chat with our dear Timelord's companion. I wonder; would you give him a message?"_

_Amy looked up and down the hallway of which she stood; the slight fear and bewilderment quickly growing._

"_How did you get here?" She moved forward just a little, intrigued._

"_Now," Moriarty leant forward, "That would be telling." His voice was barely above a whisper before he scoffed quietly, "Here."_

_He beckoned her forward with an index finger. _

_Reluctantly and, not quite believing her own actions, Amy leant towards him._

"_Tell The Doctor, Amy," he paused and licked his lips before leaning all the more closer and moving his lips to her ear, "Tell him, I'm coming." _

_**Review if you want to.**_


	2. The Missing Kissogram

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

The Missing Kissogram

CHARACTERS: Sherlock Holmes, mentions of Amy Pond, John Watson and other companions.

SET: Just after 'The Eleventh Hour.'

PROMPT: NA

_It was raining that day, rather heavy, too, and John had given up and decided on going his hotel room. Sherlock, however, wanted evidence, big or small. Just something to give him a lead. Anything._

_The two had been called to a small village known as Leadworth a few days previously to investigate a missing person; she had apparently disappeared without so much as a trace, stolen away during the night with no sign of struggle or forced entry into the, rather large, home._

_He walked up the pathway now and headed through the front door of the house. Standing in the entrance hall, he assessed his surroundings; kitchen to his left, living room to his right, a small study towards the back of the ground floor and a set of stairs in front of him. A dark blue carpet lined the way to the first floor and he moved forward._

_Sherlock glanced around, his eyes trying to focus on anything that could help but, alas, nothing as of yet._

_He came to the young woman's bedroom. An unmade double bed stood in the middle of the room, blue wallpaper reached to the ceiling. On the bedside table sat a photograph; a man and a woman, each in strange outfits, for the man seemed to be dressed as a centurion and the woman (Definatly Miss Pond) wore a police woman's outfit._

_His gaze drifted to the elegant wedding dress hung on the door of the wardrobe; clearly it had been laid out for the morning after her disappearance. He had heard that her fiancé had been incredibly calm about the situation, which was a surprise. So, it either meant that he didn't have much of a care for the red haired woman, or he knew a little something on the situation. Most likely the latter._

_The net curtains were ever so slightly askew; she'd gone to the window and had looked out onto the garden below, quite recently to, by the looks of it._

_This was not a first; a few young women had gone missing without so much as a trace of evidence; never any struggle, never any bodies. He had remembered the names on the document, all but one had returned and claimed they had been 'traveling' with a friend._

_Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Donna Noble and now, Amelia Pond. The four's only connection was that something strange had happened before their disappearance. It was only two years back when 'aliens' had been sighted in Leadworth. Witnesses say that they were planning on incinerating the earth. It was something that had both intrigued and confused Sherlock greatly, he knew that it couldn't just be humans in the universe; there were plenty of suns and planets in the sky, of course there was more life out there, but Leadworth? Why?_

_Something caught his eye then, something mostly hidden by the wardrobe. It was clear that it had been painted over, but it wasn't hidden particularly well. He moved closer and laid a finger on the wall, hovering his hand just above the thin crack in the plaster, before running his finger along the length of it._

_The police may not have spotted it, of course they hadn't. It was merely a crack in the wall, why would they think it of importance?_

_But there was something odd about it._

_Something not quite right._

_Something interesting._

**Hello, have another one!**

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	3. The Sociopath And The Box

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

The Sociopath And The Box

CHARACTERS: Sherlock Holmes, tenth Doctor, Donna Noble, mentions of John Watson and DI LeStrade.

SET: A few days after 'The Hound Of The Baskervilles'

PROMPT: Kie1993 (Hope it is to your liking)

_He first saw it in Dartmoor. It wasn't obvious, merely a shadow through the trees. A box; very strange thing to keep in the middle of the woods. That was the reason why it had intrigued him so. Had he not been busy defending himself from the 'hound' he surely would have gone up to it, investigated it. After finishing in the hollow he had looked for it again, ashamedly, it had gone._

_John hadn't seen it, neither had LeStrade. But then why would they have, the two were far too pre-occupied to notice an odd, blue police box, no matter how out of place it had been._

_But Sherlock had noticed it, of course he had, and he had wanted answers since._

_And so, when he came across the blue box, once again, during a case- running after a serial killer, it was- he had stopped, and he had observed as two people stepped out of it. A tall man came first._

"_No, Donna," he had said, "This is definitely not the forth moon of Alkyli."_

_The woman, presumably Donna, had pushed him forward, through the door of the box and out into the London drizzle._

"_Third time lucky, you said."_

_The man made to open his mouth but the red haired woman had cut him off—_

"_This is the fifth time you've tried to find that moon, Doctor, and where are we? London."_

_The man seemed to think for a couple of seconds before he sprung forward._

"_Well, no time to waste. C'mon, there must be something here!"_

_He moved quickly up the small alley and Sherlock ducked swiftly out of his way as Donna followed him. The two were well out of his way when Sherlock noticed the deep humming coming from back up the alley; an engine of some sort, definitely. Stepping around the corner he spotted the box, standing still, blocking the whole path of the alleyway. An orangey glow cast out onto the wet pavement and it was then that he realised that the left door of the box had been left open. The red haired woman had been too busy ranting to check that she had shut the door behind her._

_He had rested his palm against the small glass window, it was almost warm to touch; definitely an engine somewhere._

_Slowly, analysing each detail, he pushed the door open. _

_The sight before him stopped him in his tracks, for; the box was bigger on the inside. Now that was odd. It was a normal sized police box on the outside, no point in checking, of course it was, he had seen it._

_His eyes darted quickly throughout the room, trying to examine everything._

_He took a step forward as he did this._

_Over all, the room was mainly empty but for a central blue column, the column was surrounded by buttons, levers, and even a typewriter. A frown slowly fell on his features as he deduced the possibility of this._

_It wasn't possible, of course it wasn't but yet, somehow, it was._

_A new sound accompanied the gentle humming of, what could only be described as, the ship; someone had cleared their throat behind him._

_He turned slowly to face the owner of the blue box who had grinned like a madman at first sight of him._

"_Donna," he had said, "Meet Sherlock Holmes!"_

**Okay, not too sure on this one. I'll probably do something like this again, in the future which will, hopefully, turn out better but man, I found this difficult.**

**Thank-you, though, to Kie1993 for the prompt.**

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	4. The Hunter And The Hunted

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

The Hunter And The Hunted

CHARACTERS: Amy Pond, Jim Moriarty, Eleventh Doctor

SET: During 'Flesh And Stone'.

PROMPT: N/A

_He watched her, as she knelt on the floor. She clung desperately to the communicator in her hand, waiting for any sign of her friend. A smirk formed quickly across his features at how utterly defenceless she now was, sitting on her own, in the dark and unable to see. After watching a few more seconds, he moved in on her._

_A twig snapping was the first sign that she was not alone. Amy's head snapped to the direction of the sound. It was silent for a few seconds as she licked her lips nervously._

"_Hello?"_

_No reply._

_Another twig snapped, closer this time._

_She refrained from opening her eyes._

"_Doctor?" Her voice was a hushed but desperate whisper as she spoke into the communicator._

_Another sound, closer still._

_At this point, Amy froze and bit her lower lip._

_Moriarty watched from his vantage point, he was merely metres away. Just a little closer…_

"_Doctor?" Her accent heightened as her fear grew._

_He admired the scene before him with pleasure. Never before had she been so powerless. _

_The red-head growled quietly in frustration before consoling herself and, once again, speaking into the communicator—_

"_Doctor? Are you there?" She questioned before adding quietly, "Please be there."_

_By now Moriarty had stopped moving towards her. He may have been still but she knew he was there. That much was obvious as she stood. Her feet shuffled nervously at the mud beneath her and she gripped the device in her hand tighter, her knuckles turning white. She opened her mouth to speak._

"_Doctor."_

_Moriarty beat her to it and she froze at the voice that so deftly had mimicked her accent. She turned, ever so slowly around and faced (Hopefully) her assailant._

_Moriarty tutted._

"_Amy, Amy, Amy."_

_She stood taller; her 'fight or flight' instinct was kicking in slowly._

_Moriarty stuffed his hands in his pocket and kicked at the dry leaves at his feet._

"_He's left you again, hasn't he?"_

_By now he had moved so that he stood directly in front of her. Her eyes twitched._

"_No. Don't open them."_

_She heeded the warning and he began to circle her, like a hunter admiring his catch._

"_I shouldn't worry, though," He paused, "You aren't alone."_

_She swallowed hard. He continued, lowering his lips close to her ear._

"_Not really."_

_She was saved as the device she had gripped so tightly crackled to life._

"_Amy? Amy, are you there?"_

_The presence behind her was gone and she spun on her heels, an arm outstretched, trying to feel if anybody was close._

_But, no._

_She was alone once again._

**An utterly random idea that popped into my head. Sometimes my mind worries me.**

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	5. Untitled

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

(Untitled)

CHARACTERS: Amy Pond, Sherlock Holmes

SET: In which Amy and Sherlock met first.

PROMPT: N/A

_Gunshots echoed through the large entrance hall of the museum as the two ran past the large double doors. Sherlock went first and headed into an adjoining room. Amy skidded to a halt, both breathless and confused._

"_What? We're not leaving?"_

_A bullet flew past her head and lodged itself in the marble of the wall. She took that as a prompt to keep moving and follow her friend._

_She headed through the darkness that was the natural history room and yelped as she was pulled quickly to the left. She turned to see Sherlock beside her._

"_Of course we aren't leaving." He replied to her earlier questions, "Leaving would mean no answers."_

"_Oh."_

_He cocked his head to the side a little._

"_Problem?"_

"_No." Amy answered shortly._

_Sherlock now glanced over her shoulder as their pursuer entered the room slowly. The man re-loaded his gun before flicking the safety off._

_Amy was trying to catch her breath when the gloved hand of her companion covered her mouth._

"_You're breathing too loudly."_

_She scowled and said something particularly un-ladylike. Luckily it was muffled by his black, leather glove. He heard her and raised an eyebrow before saying quietly—_

"_We need to move."_

_With that, he held her wrist and pulled her behind him as they deftly, and as quietly as possible, left the vast room._

_The two soon came to a 'T' junction in the corridors and Sherlock released her wrist and decided to head left. She followed, about a metre or two behind him._

"_Marco!"_

_His voice drifted in from behind and she turned to see him pout._

"_You're supposed to say polo!"_

_Another shot was fired and Amy yelped quietly before heading into the next room._

_She ran past the different displays, at a quick glance she saw old pottery and vases. She made to hide behind a display case, mimicking Sherlock's position. In her haste she had managed to knock over a rather expensive looking vase. It fell to the floor with a clatter, Amy stopped, glanced at the, now smashed, intricate vase, before continuing with her search for a hiding place._

"_Careful!" Sherlock scolded._

_She pulled an indignant face._

"_Sorry. Didn't quite have you down for being the arty type."_

_The two glared at each other before a smile graced both faces. As much hassle as this was, they were both rather enjoying themselves._

**Another little odd one. If you've given me a prompt, don't worry, I'm working on them.**

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	6. When Two Evil Geniuses Meet

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

When Two Evil Geniuses Meet

CHARACTERS: James Moriarty, The Master, The Doctor (Mentioned), Amy Pond (Mentioned)

SET: Refer to title.

PROMPT: N/A

_He was late._

_How dare he?_

_No one was late when meeting James Moriarty._

_No one._

_Jim sighed in frustration and glanced at the clock. Did he know how much he had ordered people to do? Did this, so called 'Master' know how much work had gone into this plan. He frowned, _selfish git…

_He had been there for about ten minutes, though, he had refused to show himself; he waited. It was all about the reaction; he needed to gauge his future partner's personality. A smirk formed slowly on The Master smiled as he watched the room's occupant sigh in irritation as he paced slowly, up and down the length of the room, his well polished shoes occasionally squeaking against the dark tiled floor._

_Deciding that now was the time, The Master stepped through the door and into the room with a grin on his face. His associate was not facing him and so, he cleared his throat._

_Jim stopped as soon as he heard the sound. He kept his back to The Master and smirked._

"_You're late." He spoke in a high pitched voice before spinning slowly on his heels._

_He studied the man in front of him; black suit and tie, dark shoes. He was young looking with light hair although, something in his eyes showed that he had lived longer than his features would dare to give away._

_The Master watched him; sleek looking and cat like. That was his first thought. With a grey suit and light tie, his eyes showed the deviousness that undoubtedly settled in the man's mind._

_It was Moriarty who spoke first—_

"_We won't dwell on our first impressions." He turned his head and looked toward his companion out of the corner of his eye, "Just don't let it happen again."_

_The Master said nothing; he only gave a small and quiet laugh._

_The two fell into silence as the Timelord waited for what he had wanted to hear since he had 'employed' this man and his people for the job at hand- He needed The Doctor. More importantly, he needed to get to The Doctor. And this man was almost the eyes and ears of England._

"_We've seen him." Moriarty stated, staring out of the window, "He comes and he goes, as you know."_

_The Master stood a little straighter, his eyes narrowing at the man who really didn't seem to be paying attention to him. As Jim said the next sentence- That wasn't really important to the case- his eyes seemed to shine with cunning—_

"_Him and his little red haired companion."_

"_Where is he?" The Master growled, growing impatient. He gripped his screwdriver in his pocket, telling himself inwardly that he could not kill this man, however much he wanted to._

"_He's close." Moriarty inhaled deeply, his eyes shut before pinning The Master with an evil looking glance, "So very close."_

**Oh, is it bad that I think I ship Amy/Moriarty?**

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	7. The Case Of The Living Dead Man

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

The Case Of The Living Dead Man

CHARACTERS: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, DI LeStrade.

SET: London, early evening.

PROMPT: animegirl03 (Please note: this will definitely be continued at a later date, for I love the idea of these two meeting. Although, I'm finding it hard and so, this is what I have so far. Enjoy!)

_The navy sky above them began to breach small, delicate looking clusters of stars. Sherlock steeped out of the cab, shortly followed by John. The Doctor stepped in a puddle as soon as his foot touched the pavement, soaking his shoe and much of the lower leg of his trouser in the process. He sighed in irritation and mumbled some, less than polite, words._

"_Great place to stop." He grumbled._

_Sherlock wasn't paying much attention to his friend, who clearly wasn't happy about leaving his 'date' in order to help with the new case. Instead, he listened intently as a dark haired woman- probably in her early forties- explained to a rather confused police officer, the events of the previous hour—_

"_He just ran! I didn't mean to hit him, but I did! I killed him! I'm sure of it!"_

_Now, that was odd- it definitely wasn't usual for a person to admit to manslaughter so freely and so quickly. Clearly, though, the woman had had a large shock. _

_Sherlock frowned slightly before stepping forward and meeting LeStrade. The Detective Inspector stood beside a rather large pool of crimson liquid. There was no doubt about it; if any man had lost this amount of blood, he would be most certainly dead._

"_So," John now stood with them, "A stolen corpse?" He tried to shed some idea of what could have happened._

"_That's what we thought at first." LeStrade answered, sighing heavily._

"_At first?"_

_The DI took a deep breath._

"_Witnesses are saying that he woke up, apparently. That they saw him walk back up the road. He was looking for something, they thought." He spoke slower now; disbelief piercing his tone._

"_The truth is, Sherlock," He continued, "I just have no idea."_

_The consulting detective had now stooped low; inspecting the blood. It was smeared so, yes; judging by the pattern of the smudges, the man had simply stood and walked away. The footprints of crimson indicated no difficulty with walking; the man's stride was utterly normal after waking in a pool of his own blood._

_Sherlock soon found himself with no real, probable answer and, at that moment, he found himself dangerously curious. _

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**(****^^ I'm loving Amy/Moriarty at the moment so, any situations or prompts with these two would be much loved!)**

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. Moriarty's New Pet

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

Moriarty's new pet.

CHARACTERS: James Moriarty, Amy Pond, Rory Williams (Mentioned), Eleventh Doctor (Mentioned)

SET: Sometime, somewhere.

PROMPT: Kie1993

_Amy woke; her head pounding. The ceiling above her was a dull grey colour, the floor and walls were the same._

_She tried not to panic and instead, replayed the last few hours in her head-_

The group had spent the day in the TARDIS; Amy wanted Rory to see everything that she had seen so far. The Doctor had begrudgingly agreed to give the couple a day off from saving the universe, saying something along the lines of 'I'll just tinker with the console- need to sort out those warning lights, anyway.'

Amy, of course, knew that this meant he would be fixing something that wasn't broken… again.

She was leading Rory towards the swimming pool when the lights had gone out, brandishing her and her fiancé in darkness. She'd laughed lightly at the time- this wasn't the first time The Doctor had screwed with the lighting- before calling for Rory. Her answer was a shocked-sounding grunt, followed by a dull thud.

She had asked for him, wondering if he had tripped. Silence followed and her heart rate had increased.

'Rory? Tell me you're messing around."

No answer.

She had squealed when an arm wrapped around her waist and a hand covered her face. She remembered the voice in her ear—

"Why, hello, Miss Pond."

_She stood, now; desperately wanting to do something about this situation. It was then that she had realised her boots were gone- whoever had taken her had also stolen her shoes. She frowned in frustration._

"_Hello?" She called out into the air around her._

_The lights switched on, then. Bathing her in bright white light. The red-head squinted against the brightness and brought a hand to her forehead, shading her gaze._

"_Who's there?" Her voice had quietened but she made sure to still sound strong and confident._

"_Oh, boys. I think the lighting is a little too much." _

_Amy spun on her heels at the new voice. The lights now faded and she saw him just as the door shut heavily behind him; Dark, Westwood suit with a thin black tie, his dark hair matched his blazer. He seemed to giggle, almost._

"_Sorry, your shoes are," He paused, looking around aimlessly before bringing a hand wide, "Somewhere."_

_Amy eyed him, confusion and frustration flitting across her features quickly._

"_Where am I?"_

_He stepped forward casually, left hand in the pocket of his trousers. He rounded her, answering—_

"_Somewhere, here and there."_

_He could see her resist the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closed them, trying to stay calm._

"_Tell me now. Where am I?"_

_He noticed how her accent heightened._

"_Now, now," He feigned offence, "We both know that I am not going to tell you, don't we?"_

_It was now that she leant back against the wall closest to her. In defeat, maybe? He didn't know._

_But over the time that he would keep her, he'd surely get to know her well enough._

_A smirk fell on his features as he watched her, utterly unprotected._

_Utterly defenceless._

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	9. Untitled again

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

(Untitled)

CHARACTERS: Molly Hooper, Eleventh Doctor.

SET: Just after 'The Eleventh Hour'.

PROMPT: N/A

She was fourteen when she first met him- That strange man in the funny bow-tie. The Doctor, or, that's was what he had called himself, anyway.

The school had smelt 'off' for a few weeks, teachers had merely said it was some leaking pipes or that the rooms had recently been painted.

But it wasn't paint, nor was it gas, Molly new that much even if others in her class did not.

It was during her science class when she had first heard the sound. She'd describe it, almost, like an elephant in a great deal of pain. She glanced up from her work, only to see a blue police box in the middle of the playground.

He had stepped out, then. Clad in tweed and dark trousers.

Her head inadvertently tilted to the side as she kept her gaze on him as he wandered, rather confidently, into the building.

Suddenly and, without really knowing what she was doing, her hand had shot up.

"Miss?"

The teacher had glanced up from the work she was marking.

"Yes?"

Molly bit her lip; needing an excuse. She never normally did this; lie, that is, but this was too good of an opportunity to miss.

"I need the toilet. I'll be quick."

Her teacher had sighed before sternly answering—

"Very quick."

Molly hopped from her stool and jogged out of the room.

Once in the corridor, she turned left, only to see the man open the door to the basement.

_Odd, _she thought, _that door is always kept locked_.

Without much hesitation and with her child-like interest piqued, she followed.

"Excuse me?" She questioned after watching the man for some time.

He had spent several minutes sniffing at the air and poking out his tongue. He spun on his heels at her voice.

"What are you doing?"

He seemed to think for a few seconds before, with a flourish, he presented her with a leather wallet. He opened it to reveal a piece of paper.

"John Smith." He said, "Pipe inspector."

She raised an eyebrow, cynical.

"Pipe inspector?" She held back a scoff of disbelief.

He went to speak but a sudden rattling behind her had cut him off. After a few seconds, he knelt slightly, now closer to her height.

"What's your name?"

"Molly," She answered cautiously, "Molly Hooper."

He did a double take to which she answered—

"Do I know you?" Her inquisitiveness was showing in her eyes.

"Not yet." Was his reply.

He reached out his hand, keeping an eye behind her. She took his grip and he beamed down at her.

"Run."

She'd helped him that day, helped him to save the world, he'd said.

His parting words had always intrigued her—

"_I'll see you soon, Molly Hooper."_

He hadn't.

Seen her, that is. Not yet, anyway.

And she always wondered if he ever would.

**Not sure on this one, I just had the idea and wanted to write it down.**

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	10. A Date With Danger

**Wholock ficlets**

**A bunch of small Sherlock/Doctor Who ficlets with about three hundred to five hundred words or so. Will be updated whenever I have a muse. Not a continuous story. May not be the best thing I have ever written.**

**May also be OOC. Apologies for any irritation.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor who.**

**AN: Well, how long has it been? Too long and I apologize for that. If anyone has stuck around after the crazy-long absence then I thank you very much.**

A Date With Danger

CHARACTERS: Amy Pond, Jim Moriarty, Eleventh Doctor (Mentioned)

SET: A month or so after The Doctor left Amy for two years (Eleventh Hour)

PROMPT: C'estMoiLiz (Sort of… sorry if this is bad and OOC I will re-write something if people think it is. It has been a while since I've written either of these to.)

_She was still reeling with excessive disappointment. The past month had gone by at a snail's pace- something which was less than desirable._

_Amy's eyes narrowed whilst thinking back- she had been so ready, so ready to bound away with him; that stupid idiot in the bow tie and embarrassing tweed jacket. She really thought he'd wait for her- if not to take her with him but to say goodbye, a thank-you at least! She'd helped him save the world for goodness sake!_

_And now here she was, sitting at a bar with three friends who had no idea- completely ignorant to the fact that they could've died, along with the rest of the planet only a few weeks ago. The red head sat on a bar stool, her thoughts excluding her from her group of friends that had dragged her out. She sighed before ordering another wine._

"_Difficult day?"_

_The new accent caught her off guard- to her knowledge; she was the only non-British person in the area. It was only a small village after all. With curiosity rising, she turned._

_A man with dark hair and sleek features smiled back at her, and it was then that Amy remembered his question._

"_Yeah… sort of." She eyed him curiously and he held out a hand._

"_Jim." Was all he said._

_Taking the man's hand lightly and shaking it, she countered-_

"_Amy."_

_She couldn't deny that the man was handsome- albeit in a quirky way- but she didn't mind quirky. She especially didn't mind when he paid for her drink, something that Amy rarely let people do. But today she was feeling a little tender, and the man's kindness went a long way with her._

_Thanking him, she questioned-_

"_So, what are you doing in Leadworth, Jim?"_

_He sighed lightly, meeting her eye._

"_Seeing the sights, is all."_

_Amy licked her lips and glanced back at her group- she hadn't missed the meaning behind his sentence. One friend, a blonde name Cheryl, sent a wink her way but Amy refused to blush and quickly turned back to see Jim take a small mouthful of his own beverage, eyebrows raised, his gaze continuously connected with hers. Jim now continued speaking-_

"_Your accent, Scottish?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_What are you doing here?" He enunciated the word 'you' purposely and she found herself smiling._

_Well, a little meaningless flirting never hurt anyone, right?_

_Tapping her lilac nails gently against the wood of the bar, she leant forward a little._

"_Came here with the family when I was little." She replied simply._

"_Never lost the accent?"_

"_Never wanted to." She countered, a smirk falling across her lips._

_She found that Jim had now leant forward too. He licked his lips._

"_Here for a special occasion? You're looking far too immaculate for anything else."_

_Instead of thanking him, she merely stated with a small wave of her hand-_

"_Birthday. My friend's."_

_Tilting his head to the side, Jim examined her ginger waves before lightly twirling a lose strand with his fingers._

"_Would they miss you?" He nodded toward the group of females behind them._

_Amy answered quickly, the amount of drink in the night taking effect, now._

"_Doubt it."_

_He led her out then and there._

**I have no idea what I have just written. It was more creepy than anything. Facepalm**

**I am continuing to try and get through all ideas given to me.**

**Any prompts or ideas that you have, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll give them a shot.**

**[Please note that I am so terrible at writing Johnlock that I no longer try. Apologies.]**

**Thanks for reading.**


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